Brave Man
by KG-613
Summary: She was rhythmic positively, absolutely rhythmic. Rating change for a reason. Two-shot complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters belong to her, everything else it mine.

* * *

><p>She was rhythmic positively, absolutely rhythmic.<p>

He watched as her body swayed to the guitar. As the guitarist plucked, her hips created a harmony, melody and base. There were no words, really, to describe her siren body.

The café was quaint, just a small dive on the corner of here and there. He'd visited it when work became especially daunting. The orders were really rolling in and he hadn't had a reprieve in quite some time. So here he sat, in the dark corner of a nameless café, sipping tea and filling the air around him with his musk.

He was sure she hadn't noticed him. And after nearly four years, he wasn't sure it was even her. She was older now, obviously. Her hair lengthened and with a spot less frizz. Her body remained frail but her hips had grown to maturity. He rather enjoyed the scene she was making. It wasn't out of the ordinary nor was she becoming a nuisance.

If he were a brave man he would tell her he could watch her all night. But he isn't a brave man merely a man who needs shields and masks to hide his insecurities and past oppressions. He isn't a brave man, but he would like to be.

As the song ended she took her seat. His dark eyes turned disappointed. He would play forever, for her. He would charm every guitar he saw to play, for her. He would take up the art himself. He would practice night and day until he mastered the wretched wood, for her.

But those are things a brave man would do.

She was surrounded by her friends, Muggles it seemed. They each took turns ordering tea and various other drinks. He wasn't one for Muggle alcohol and it seemed neither was she. She spoke and he strained to hear, he was too far away and too old to make any sense of her voice, but her comrades all began laughing not just giggles or smirks, but light emitting belly laughs. It was as if her hips weren't enough, she had the ability to enlighten an entire group by her tales and quips.

He could fall in love with that, if only he were a brave man.

He drank in the shape of her profile, the way her hair tucked defiantly behind her curved ear, the slight slope of her nose and its rounded tip. He saw her lips, fuller now, plump against the cup as she sipped. If he didn't know any better he would say that the world ended in that finite line between the cup and her lips, and when they finally met it was as if the cup greeted her grasping onto her pale pink flesh and never wanting to let go.

As the guitarist took up again, she rose and turned just so and caught his eye. His heart and breath both stopped. His lips curved into a smirk, she would tell you it was a charming look on his porcelain skin. The malice and anger from his previous life was gone. She took his smile and catalogued it among the things she would never wish to forget.

It was the first she'd seen him since the day he was released from the hospital, battered but healing. She didn't know why but his aura was calling to her now. She was never one to put stock in Divination or Spiritual Arts but she felt his soul calling her.

As she made her way slowly to his table, his breath hitched. Her hips took it upon themselves to sway, since when did walking allow for swaying? Why was she so enchanting? As his eyes rose from her denim clad hips to her tight white jumper he almost missed the strip of skin peaking from between, almost. He was nearly salivating.

"Professor," she called.

"Miss Granger," his return was weak but his brain refused to process any more information than the soft cup-caressing lips speaking to him. "Would you like…to sit?" He almost second guessed himself. Not sure if he should travel this road or if he should retreat, the door was only a few short steps away.

"Actually, I was just going for a dance."

His eyes moved from her lips to her eyes, "Of course." Of course she was going for a dance his eye sight was still as keen as it always was.

"I was going to ask you to join me."

His mouth opened to respond, then closed, then opened, he was at a loss. If he were a brave man he would say yes. However, he was not a brave man. He was a foolish man who pranced in the body of a brave man. "A dance?"

"Yes, unless you would rather just watch." Her eyes emblazon with something akin to humor and a flicker of lust. She had noticed him earlier. He was a particularly powerful magical being and like called to like. She knew the moment he stepped into the room. She could feel his night's eyes watching her every movement. It thrilled her.

He was caught, shit. What a fool. She had seen him watch her dance. She had noticed him. If he were a brave man he would stay and dance. If he were a brave man he would accept her invitation and grasp her hips and move with her. However, he merely cast his eyes down to look at the floor, head falling only slightly. He could feel the shame cascade upon him like a tidal wave.

That's when she did it. Standing in front of him, her hips began to sway, her feet inching closer together then further apart. Her hands exploring her sides as her gentle movements caressed the air. He could smell her perfume as she moved space, time standing still so he could watch. He was captivated. Her eyes never left his, she watched as they made love to her hips and stomach, falling on her hands and up her arms, sinking down to catalogue her breasts. She watched as they climbed to her neck, lips, taking in her tinged-pink cheeks, finally falling into her eyes. She felt beautiful, breathtaking, stunning. It didn't happen often, she felt this feeling fleetingly. But at this moment, nothing could break her confidence.

When she reached her hand out to him, he shivered. This woman was dancing for him. The sparse lit café in combination with the very few patrons allowed for privacy, and dare he say it—intimacy. He took her life raft in his hand and stood.

Time was moving so slow. The woman before him was, for the moment, his. They began a slow dance, just gentle sways of the hips, her hands, one on his shoulder and one in his grasp, felt as if they were melting. His hand moved from her hip to the small of her back, rubbing circles and pulling her tighter to his body. He wouldn't fancy himself a dancer, but he knew the basics.

As they pressed tighter her head fell to his cheek and he took the opportunity to place his lips on her hairline. It wasn't a kiss. It was his promise. She leaned into him and turned her head, her eyes traveling up his shirt to a patch of scars ghosting on the edge of his collar, up to his chin, to his lips, nose, eyes. As her toes reached the tippy top, as far as they could go, she met his lips with her own. It was a kiss. It was also her promise.

Her lips left his and met his ear, "Care for a walk?"

He wasn't a brave man but it was okay, she was brave enough for them both.

* * *

><p>AN: This is unbeta'd thus far. I can't decide if I want this to keep going. If it does it will probably be smutty, but it could just be a kiss and a cuddle. Thoughts? Review button? Yes?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

For disclaimer see chapter 1.

* * *

><p>The night air was thick, too heavy for the autumn night. Both welcomed the city noises, keeping them from escaping into their own skulls. They remained silent in their rush to her flat, at least he assumed that's where she was headed, she stayed in pace with him but somehow was directing him.<p>

He would like to have thought he was in charge, he was the leader and she merely followed in time. She would always lead him, he knew that. She led him to recovery four years ago. She led him to the street four minutes ago. Who can only imagine where she would lead him 4 hours from now? But oh, oh there was hope and truly, he had hoped enough for the both of them.

Her flat was small with one room off to the back and a tiny kitchen to the right. It was quaint and, obviously, filled with books. This was Hermione Granger, what else would she fill her world with? He took a seat on the sofa, which acted as a barrier between kitchen and living area, while she brought water to boil.

Once the kettle screamed, she danced to a small table and laid out the tea. So, maybe she didn't exactly dance, but in his mind every time her body moved it was a dance. He was positive she made the world ashamed that it didn't move with such poise.

"I missed you." She was direct, simple, and unyielding. When courage dictated he turn to face her she was curled up on the other end of the sofa, knees drawn to her chest guarding herself.

"Is that so?" He was skeptical, it had been four years. Surely he was an afterthought. Merely a man she once knew. A man she once nursed to health. She rolled her eyes, but he really wasn't trying to infuriate her, honest. "I only say this, Miss Granger, because it has been quite some time. You never wrote."

"Neither did you." The truth left a sting beneath his breast.

"You are once again correct," his voice became quiet, almost a whisper, "You are always correct." He took a deep breath, unsure of himself, "I wanted to I even picked up my quill time and time over. I began writing. I wrote you a thousand letters, I'm almost sure of it. After weeks and months, I figured you had moved on. I read of your engagement…and then of your disengagement. I had my owl prepared to send a letter but…I couldn't. I am not a brave man Miss Granger. Years of war have taught me not to hope."

She had tears in her eyes, down her cheeks. "Severus, why is it that I think so much of you and yet you think so little of yourself?" She moved closer, on her knees beside him, looking into his eyes. She brushed her hands along his chest. As she leaned in he could only pray. He prayed to every deity he could remember, he prayed one would help him not fuck this up.

As their lips once again met they fell into each other. Not just physically but mentally and spiritually as well. He could feel their souls connecting as the kiss deepened and then deepened still. He was almost positive he was somewhere between her small and large intestines and yet he crawled within her body, seeking refuge from the storm.

It was really all he needed to know, that she felt something for him. She cared about him. It happened only rarely but for once, he was happy with his lot. He didn't know where it would lead—a kiss was just a kiss—but it was a start. This, he realized, would take courage and if she felt he was brave, well for fuck's sake he could be brave.

With their bodies slightly glistening from their bedroom romp, he laid still, his cheek on her thigh, between her legs and said, "I could live here, you know?"

"Severus, this place is tiny!" She laughed; he could live in her laugh. He flipped on his stomach and wrapped his arms under her thighs, bringing her sex closer to his face.

"I don't mean the flat, love, I mean between your legs. I could live my life until I was a wrinkled old fool with this being my only sustenance." He was being crude but he decided it was time to quit being guarded. Remember, he was trying to be brave.

He watched as she laughed, her breasts bouncing and arms grasping her face in shock and embarrassment. "I hardly doubt that…"

Before she could finish, his tongue took the initiative to shut her up. He ran it in the juncture between her lips, parting them slightly and slowly travelling up. Before reaching her sweetest head he sucked one lip into his mouth massaging it with his tongue and lips and with a pop he moved to the other, continuing the treatment. He looked into her glossy eyes, he saw as she brought one hand to her breast and her other to his hair she rubbed his scalp and pulled him closer to her sweet heat.

He allowed his tongue to swipe her clitoris, once, then twice, sucking it into his mouth and gently allowing his teeth to scrape the nub, she shuttered, so he repeated the process before sliding his tongue into her warmth diving in and tasting her fully. Her cacophony of moans acted as indication that she was close. So he added his long, middle finger within her folds and moved to suckle once again at her clitoris. She tightened her hold on his hair pulling him closer and closer still to her sex. Her thighs tightened against his ears and she roared his name and when she did he was sure that he could come, again, from that sound alone.

He continued his attention with his finger. Once her body lost its rigidity he removed his finger and slid up her body he lay down on his side beside her. As her eyes met his he pulled his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. He wanted her to know how glorious she truly was, she shivered.

"That may have been the single most erotic act I've ever experienced."

He smirked. "I could live here, between your legs, beside your breast, beneath your body. You are my Amortentia." He kissed her lips. "Do you taste yourself on my tongue?" She nodded meekly, slightly embarrassed by the thought. "Don't be shy, nothing you say or feel could make me turn think less of you. Nothing you say or do could make me not want you."

"I thought you weren't a brave man," she smiled, "Are you ready to be brave now?" She rolled him to his back and straddled him, her wet center on his belly. "Are you ready to do this?"

"If you don't recall we did this less than an hour ago…thus the post-coitus." Not that he cared, he was hard again and more than willing to exert all of his energy pounding into her beautiful form.

"I don't mean sex. Although," she turned and felt his erection, "I'm see he's up for round two." She continued her slow stroke moving down to sit in the space between his legs.

He moaned and, without her hand leaving his shaft, sat up to face his beauty. "That is most distracting…but please, don't stop."

Her lips twitched upward in a most Snape like smirk. "I mean us. Are you ready for there to be an 'us?' Is that something you would be agreeable to?"

"Dear God woman, agreeable?" He laughed and she jerked her hand roughly and his laugh turned to a moan, his hips thrusting up slightly. "Yes…by all mercy in the world and in the heavens, yes! Is…this something that, oh please, don't stop…something that you would want?"

Her hand stilled, "If I didn't want you for keeps, you wouldn't be in my bed. Likewise, I wouldn't be holding your beautiful cock in my hand either." Before he could speak to her bedroom language, she returned her pace, speeding up minutely. She positioned herself at the tip of his head and as she filled herself with him, he hugged her body to his own, using his arms to help her stability and pace.

They clung to each other. They were moving together like a dingy in the sea, bobbing in time with the waves and the currents. He pulled and she pushed, her walls sucked at his being and he relented, thrusting his entire length into her core. He was sure at this point that it wasn't sex or release that they sought, it was completion. It was becoming one single entity in two bodies.

Somewhere in the last few thrusts she came, her core milking his walls and taking in all that he had to offer. He felt her core grasp him tightly and he followed suit depositing his life force in her womb. As they came down from their high they remained connected, holding each other both so exhausted that if they should let go they may fall into oblivion.

"I could live here, you know."

"Hermione, this is your flat." He was sure he could think of something cleverer, but seeing as how her vagina was still impaled in the most delicious way upon his penis, he figured that would suffice.

She pulled his head off her shoulder with her hands placed on either side of his face and stared into his eyes. Their breathing was still labored, "Never leave me. Promise you won't ever leave me."

And with all of the bravery he could muster, he promised.

* * *

><p>AN: So I couldn't resist. I decided to smut it up. I would much appreciate your concrit and reviews :)<p> 


End file.
